


Underworld

by Ilast (orphan_account)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, BAMF Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hades - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ilast
Summary: There are thousands of sounds reverberating throughout this place. Sounds of pleads and help, shouts and whispers. Voices of those who will never  learn to live again. Promising whatever thing those souls can think of, in exchange for help.But he knows that if he does, he won't ever get to save Bruce in time.ORHow Jason goes to the underworld, trying to save his Dad.
Relationships: Catherine Todd & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 23
Kudos: 160





	Underworld

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Way down, Hadestown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385132) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Hi guys! I know there are a lot of things going on and I hope you're taking care of yourself! <3 This was a prompt ask that I received from Tumblr!  
> Also syn if you read this, I blame you for sending me Hadestown songs because now I'm like obsessed with the musical. Also a big shoutout to Gem for proofreading my stuff! She's the true MPV of the story! :D

The thing about Jason is that he doesn't remember much about his childhood. His childhood is only a collection of whatever fragmented residues his brain managed to pick up, after the Pit. He doesn't regret losing most of them.

His body is filled with enough evidence to understand what happened in his younger years. But the few he has managed to recover after the pit, are the ones he holds dear to his heart. And in between all of those, there is one that, even to this day, makes his heart _hurt._

What is that about?

Well, it’s none other than his _mother_ , Catherine.

And despite all the faults and wrongs, his mother could have done. All the mistakes she made while struggling to make a living, all the pain she made him go through, there’s one thing he cannot ever be grateful enough. And that was that she taught him how to read.

It was one of the few things she left him when the city of Gotham decided to take her too. And in between the many books they had, (before Willis arrived and what prompted his mother's final relapse) there was one book that was her mom's favorite.

A mythology book.

A book about a man who went all the way to hell in order to save his loved one.

He doesn’t remember the title nor the author. He doesn’t remember if the man ever managed to save his loved one in the end or if he even managed to make it. But it was the way her mother started pouring her heart out the first time she read it out loud, which made Jason reconsider the power of literature.

So despite the awful prose and the boring plot, there was not a week that passed by without his mum reading it. She loved it. Often at times citing pages whenever she was too ill to move. It was the only book he took, once the smell of his mother's corpse made the neighbors call the authorities.

He doesn’t know what happened to the book, but he never had the guts to tell anyone about it. And as the days slowly go by and with all the struggles and challenges that came with living in the streets, his mother's favorite book remained in his mind.

But all of that changed when he met a certain vigilante.

* * *

He enters Bruce's life as a boy wary and starved.

A boy whose innocence has been robbed by the cruelty and the injustice that plagues this city by day and night. A boy who is filled with scars and trauma and doesn’t think twice in unleashing his rage as a self coping mechanism. So when the social worker leaves him with no choice but to comply, he simply sees _red_.

He hates Bruce, at first.

He has no shame in admitting he despises living with the man that is the representation of everything Jason isn’t and will never be. That is everything his mother hadn’t been able to give. Jason _hates_ living with the stupid rich billionaire, who surely must view him as a charity case or something.

And he tries to make stupid Brucie realize, he will not bend down to his rules.

To make him realize that he would not let himself be domesticated by money or whatever thing Bruce could offer. He was born and raised in Crime Alley.

A pair of dollars is not going to force him to comply.

Except…nothing _worked._

Every insult or remark didn’t bring a single reaction. Not even insulting Brucie’s stupid parents managed to get a rise out of him. Just an uninterested _“hmm”_ before commanding him to eat the rest of his breakfast.

It drives him _crazy_.

Every attempt to self-sabotage this adoption fails. Every technique or every prank only makes things worse. Not even changing Bruce’s shampoo as blonde dye got him a reaction. By the time he came to breakfast the next morning, giddy of hearing the outburst that was about to come, Bruce didn’t yell at him.

He greets him, even if his hair is just a horrible shade mix of blond and green. Doesn’t say a single comment even as Bruce is bombarded with photos from the Paparazzi, as Bruce drops him at school.

The next day Bruce inscribes into Jason into a three-week course at the local cosmetology school so he could (and he fuckings quotes) “ _be guided by an expert for your hair hobby Jay.”_

Jason wants to _scream_.

* * *

Living with Bruce Wayne is definitely weird.

Hella _fucking_ weird.

Long gone were the nights where he had to fend himself and search for scraps in order to survive. Nights where the cold would make every inhale hurt and his hands would not move. Or where he had to run from whatever guy that wanted to hurt him.

Crime Alley is a lot of things, but it isn’t lenient or compassion. Street children on the social ladder are viewed only as rats, who took more resources from feeding the homeless. They are an easy target to abduct or kidnap too.

Jason knew some guys that profited off of them.

So….his relation with Bruce? It doesn’t build so easily, like all the beds of roses they display at TV shows. This one was full of insecurity and distrust.

It takes months, perhaps even a whole year before Jason finally lets his defense down. Because well...Bruce Wayne is just... _weird,_ to be honest. Jason had no fucking idea how the hell Bruce Wayne had survived this long because the dude is just plain fucking _weird_.

He just...he didn’t get _angry_.

He didn’t shout at him whenever Jason leashed out some of his never endless anger. Didn’t lose his patience nor did he ever mention the lack of food whenever their food dispenser got ransacked by Jason’s fear of being dumped into the streets again.

He _never_ hit him.

Unlike Willis, Bruce never once did he lay a hand on him. The nearest reaction of anger was a clipped _“I am too mad right now to talk about this. I am going to take a timeout and calm down, and then we’ll talk more, okay?”_

It drove him _crazy_ , because why couldn’t Wayne see? He lashed out, bit, screamed. Did everything in his power to make Bruce realize that he isn’t worth it. That he, Jason Todd, is the exact representation of everything Bruce isn’t and would never be.

But Bruce persisted. Every cruel word is neutralized with kinder ones. Praising every little thing Jason did or creating activities to get to know him more. Slowly but surely Bruce begins to conquer all those difficulties with nothing more than patience and well placed kind words.

_Words that Willis Todd never cared to say._

Yet that doesn’t mean that Jason doesn’t have an outburst, every once in a while. Times where he would get overwhelmed by his current situation. Times where he would scream at Bruce to leave him alone, that he would _**never**_ consider him anything less than a stranger.

Times, where he would beg Bruce to _please_ , dump him back on the street, where Jason rightfully belonged. Times where all he wanted was to be back with his Mom and not Bruce. It would always end up like this; where all the anger he had harbored to the world for making his mother pass away would quickly turn into sadness, because well...all Jason wanted … his _mom_ back.

“Jason?” He would always ask in the end, knocking outside his door. When all everything had been said and there was nothing more left to add. As all Jason could do was shy away under the bed. Gently crying when the sadness arrived.

“Hey it’s okay Jason,” He would softly whisper, gently coaxing him out of his hideout. Jason would shut his eyes, _hard_. Because as much as he disliked this situation, as much as he _longed_ to be back with his mother, he couldn’t deny that Bruce didn’t deserve any of this. “I’m not mad.”

_He honestly didn’t._

His mother would be ashamed of this, he realized. And that hurt...a lot. The mix of sadness and guilt came to strike him in the face and he simply let out a sob. She would not be happy about this type of behavior. So he would whisper the words, afraid and while holding part of his breath.

“I’m sorry,” it came out almost like an accident, spilling out of his drawn inward lips. His blue eyes lost their harshness and bravado and became rounder and glossy. He didn’t, he _didn’t_ mean to say all those words…and yet...and _yet_.

“Please don't send me away,” He would beg.

Bruce’s eyes would soften just a little, and he would see the deepening wrinkles there.

“I won’t ever send you away, Jay. Son, it’s okay” He would say, gently placing him in his lap while Jason poured his heart out, clutching the hem of Bruce’s sweater for support. And he cried. He cried for his mother, for himself, for the injustice he was forced to go through, the sadness and guilt he’d been harboring for _months_.

Bruce would stay there, holding him and patting his back, whispering whatever words to comfort him.

* * *

He soars high through the sky. Wind caressing his face and his eye, gently guiding him through the night. Nights where Jason can finally let his dreams come true. Of finally having the power and responsibility of helping people and fighting against the injustice that has spread through all of Gotham.

The same one that _indirectly_ killed her mother.

Bruce isn’t that far from him. And in moments like this, where he’s full of happiness for finally making a difference, is that he wishes this moment could last _forever._ Because being Robin?

Gives him _magic_.

* * *

Even with a fever, he can perfectly hear how someone enters the quarantine zone. More specifically his bedroom, because Jason is no other thing than _sick_.

Sick, as in runny nose and fever, and all the other symptoms that came with having the flu. He pulls the blankets in closer about his neck, but that isn’t enough to soothe the mix of cold and heat that is suffocating him.

And just, _ugh_.

He hates being sick, _at all_. He whimpers, letting his head hit the pillow with a _thud_. All while regretting not taking Alfie’s advice sooner. He closes his eyes, wishing that he’d never gone out to play outside without his jacket.

Because this flu?

This flu is being a total _pain in the ass_.

He hides away into the safety of the pillow and his army of used tissues that are now under his command. But not even that deters Bruce from approaching. He feels the bed dip from Bruce’s weight. That can only mean one thing.

_More scolding._

“Alfred told me you’re sick, uh?”

“Not a word,” He croaks out, but he doesn’t even get to finish it without sneezing. “I’m already paying the price B’. Don’t need your sermon too.”

Bruce simply smiles.

“It’s just the flu, Jay.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Webmd says the contrary,” He argues back and raises his finger with every symptom he describes.”Fever, headaches, endless cough. This is clearly a case of the bubonic plague, in this essay I will-”

He doesn’t get to finish it when Bruce barks a laugh and shakes his head. Strangely so, something like warmth pools in his stomach.

Jason ducks his head.

“You'll be okay," Bruce promises, ruffling his hair and giving his scorching forehead a light kiss. There’s a slight beat of silence as before Jason breaks it.

“Now Bruce,” He starts, looking him dead serious in the eye. “Did you bring the goods?”

Bruce smiles.

“Goods?”

He nods.

“And by goods, you mean Pride and Prejudice?”

_More energetic nodding._

* * *

One minute his head is bobbing above the water and then it is gone. He can't hear the music and chantings anymore. The ceremony, the rituals he remembers witnessing with his broken body. Because now his hair is like seaweed upwards, rippling in the currents.

He’s sinking, he realizes. He orders his limbs to help him, for him to gulp some of the air, but then a hand forces him under.

He doesn’t understand why. But this time he sinks faster and the panic has his heart hammering against his ribs.

_Why?_

His head is pounding as the rest of his body is screaming for oxygen. He keeps fighting until it feels like his head is about to explode.

 _It’s okay boy,_ the water whispers to him, soothing him. _Everything will be okay. I have seen what your heart desires and so I will grant your wishes._

_Now relax._

And so he does.

* * *

Two minutes later, the body jolts with a scream notifying the whole league of Assasins that the Lazarus Pit chose the boy.

And so, they plan.

* * *

It amazes him how so much can change in such a short amount of time. His life, for example, can be perfectly encapsulated into a shitshow. Now with a new body and whatever memories survived the horrors of the pit, Jason only wants one thing done.

 _Justice_.

Yet, it is apparent how nobody wants to help aid. Cowards, he can’t help but think when he’s intercepted by the people that had once been his whole world. And as he thinks what exactly he will do next, he catches a glimpse of the newest side-kick.

_Replacement._

“Red Hood,” Nightwing starts, taking a step forward. _Dick Grayson,_ his mind supplies. He looks... _different_. Older, more tired. “You will stop right now.”

“Su-surrender yourself!” Robin adds.

Not that it will stop him from doing what he must do.

He strains to hear if the rest of Batman’s sect is here. Much to his displeasure, his helmets pick up more than four individuals, hiding from plain sight.

_Fuck._

“I wonder if he bleeds just as pretty as the other Robin,” He spits out, quickly pulling his guns. A batarang is aimed at his wrist. He evades it with ease. He looks at them, hoping his modulator won’t ever get to catch the desperation laced in his voice.

“I wonder if you will replace this one too-” He doesn’t get to finish it when suddenly Batman _snarls_ , with such ferocity that he takes a step back, uncertainty.

But by the time he manages to get himself back together, it’s already too late. He’s tackled by Batman, who pushes him to the ground and knocks the air out of him. It’s a classic tactic of Bruce, whenever he wants to neutralize an enemy.

With the exception that he tackles him with so much force, part of his helmets breaks. It shuts all his systems, making everything dark and so similar to when he was submerged to the Pits.

He feels the panic, the one he’d been desperately trying to hide (and the reason he can’t sleep at nights), in his abdomen.

It is a minuscule thing that slowly begins to spread. So much that it gathers tension in his limbs, as his mind is looping him back to _that_ night. His heart beats faster as his breathing becomes rapid and shallower.

He drops the guns.

His body goes slack.

He’s having a panic attack, and he _can’t breathe_.

“Red Hood?” They call his alias, but he doesn’t respond. His body isn’t working. It isn’t cooperating, whatsoever. “Red Hood?”

If he tries hard enough, he can almost hear the worry in Batman’s voice, which is just simply ridiculous. Because Bruce? He never cared anyway. If he did, he would have avenged him in the first place. Not replaced with another version an-

“Shit,” Dic-Nightwing says when another minute passes by. Thing is….that he _can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, why can’t he breathe?_ He wants to scream, yell, _anything_ to be back in control anymore. He lets out a sob because he’s afraid.

Especially when the flashes of memories that all he wants is to forget, hit him in the face. He recoils as if he was slapped. He wants it to stop. The pain, the sadness, the laugher of the clown, and just-

_Make it stop._

He shuts his eyes, and in a moment of weakness, he whispers the words, wishing for comfort.

 _“D-dad_.”

* * *

After months of preparation and anticipation, this is finally it. _This is it_ , he thinks, as he sets foot on the apartment he now owns.

Is he looking forward to whatever new chapter in his life? _Also yes._ Is he also regretting this? Yes, _and what the hell was he even think-_

“Is this okay?” Bruce asks, setting down the last cardboard box on the floor. It’s the last one from the truck rental. “Do you need everything else?

There’s a small pause before Bruce asks again.

“Jason?”

“I’m alright Bruce,” Jason says as he looks how the rest of the family helps with the decor. God knows how many plants Dick brought with him. Tim isn’t that far away, setting up some privacy system and whatever cyber code Barbara sent him.

It’s so... _domestic_.

Suddenly he has a lump in his throat. In between the many emotions he has, there is one he knows far too well.

Ah, guilt.

His never-ending partner.

Jason swallows it, even if it feels as if he was swallowing broken glass, because well...he….doesn’t know how the hell he’s even here in the first place. He doesn’t deserve it. He knows he doesn’t, after all he has done and all the blood he has spilled.

Then, he feels someone gently touching his shoulder.

He blinks.

It’s none other than Bruce, looking at him preoccupied. His touch grounds him, for some reason. And at the same time...it gives the hopes that while it would probably take years before their relationship can become what it used to be, every day is an improvement.

“Jason?”

And in moments like this, when Jason feels hopeful about the future and whatever it may bring, that he turns around and cracks up a smile.

“Yeah, old man?

* * *

It is on a Tuesday where everything comes crashing down. When Bruce makes another surprise visit to his apartment. It’s a small thing, definitely not as gigantically huge like the manor, but it is comfy. Perhaps way too comfy.

And now that winter has arrived, they practically have to force him to get out of the house. Not that he isn’t willing, but ever since _that_ , he’s very sensitive to cold.

“An invitation?” He asks, when Bruce sits next to him. Bruce hums, setting aside his scarf and focusing on the random channel Jason had been watching. Bruce looks...relaxed, even healthy. There’s this glow to his skin that hadn’t been four months ago.

 _Uh_ , he thinks as he goes to the kitchen to grab a beer and some snacks. Expecting a child has definitely done some wonders for Bruce. How many months is Selina pregnant? He sticks his tongue out, remembering but the thing is...that Jason probably lost count. Two? Three? Fourth?

He should probably ask Bruce about that.

_Nah, some other day._

“Aren’t I a little bit too old for that?”

Bruce simply chuckles and accepts the beer. Little did he know that this would be the last evening they would spend together.

* * *

“Don’t do this to me old man,” Jason croaks out. Blood, there’s so much blood in his hand. It’s making his heart spin because the color he loves so much is all over his clothes, hands, and hair.

He doesn’t think he’ll get to look at the color, ever again. There’s sweat on his forehead, tremors all over his hand, and he can faintly hear the sound of people weeping and crying in the background.

Terror slowly begins to take over when he realizes Bruce’s grip is getting softer and that his eyes are getting glossier. He widens his eyes, realization hitting him in the face. This is exactly what happened to Catherine.

With the exception that this time, it’s _Bruce._

No.

_No._

_**No.** _

“Don’t do this B,’” He pleads, not caring if the voice breaks at the end of the sentence. He applies more pressure to the bullet wound, even if the more rational side of him is telling that he’s late. He’s in denial. “If not for me, do this for Selena and Helena.”

He starts blabbering, saying whatever thing to make Bruce not lose consciousness. There’s still time. The ambulance in any giving minute could arrive and just, _just a little longer, please-_

“For Damian, for Tim, for Dick, shit Bruce _please_ don’t do this,” He _snarls_ , hating the world from doing this to him. Just when he just started to make amends. Just when his life was slowly getting back together. “Don’t do this, they need you. B-bruce, _please_ don’t do this.”

“Please don't cry,” He whispers with a smile even if blood trickles from his mouth. A female voice not too far away from him begins to scream.

_Selina._

He shuts his eyes harder because he can’t even imagine what Selina must be going through. He can hear Dick trying to comfort her.

“You promise, you _promise_ you wouldn’t-” He opens his mouth and instead of whatever curse he wants to let out, a sob escapes from his mouth. “You stu-stupid piece of shit, you promised. You _fucking promised_ you wouldn’t do this and-”

He shut his eyes because this is simply _not fair at all_. Why? His brains scream when another minute passes and Bruce begins to slowly cough up blood.

“Please.”

He wants to wake up from his nightmare.

Please.

_Please._

* * *

“Hidden deep within the bowels of the earth and ruled by the god Hades and his wife Persephone,” Tim starts, not even raising his head. He looks comical, seated in the living room and wearing a sweater three sizes bigger than him.

_(Bruce’s sweater, to be more precise. But that’s something that Jason will avoid thinking altogether.)_

Not to mention the army of cats laying on his laps. Tim’s attention is currently focused on the calico cat purring against his chest like there’s no tomorrow. Jason can’t help but smile at the picture. All while trying to drown the guilt threatening to come out.

Because ever since Bruc- _he_ left, Tim didn’t take quite well the loss. But hopefully, since Tim is living back in the manor, he’ll get better. At least the massive army of cats Damian adopted has helped him in that aspect. Now there’s not a moment in which Tim isn’t followed by at least six cats.

 _I’ve trained them_ , _Todd_ Damian had said with a nod when Jason inquired more about it. It had been after Tim’s hospitalization. _They know their purpose is to comfort Drake._

“....The Underworld is the kingdom of the dead, where the souls of those who die go to after death,” Tim finishes. Jason knows that asking Tim about this, minutes after Tim took his pill is perhaps the most cowardly thing he has ever done to date.

_Please forgive me._

“And if I would…” He falters, wishing that one day Tim forgives him for doing this.

“If I would what, Jay?” Tim repeats with a yawn. He looks at the clock. He doesn’t have much time left. In any given second, Tim will fall asleep.

 _Fuck_.

“Jay?”

“If I would want to hypothetically enter the underworld?” He asks slowly, choking down the guilt. Taking advantage of Tim while he’s practically drowsy with antidepressants is perhaps the shittiest thing he has done so far.

But he’s desperate at this point.

“How would you do it?”

A beat, before Tim hums.

“Quite simple Jay,” He slurs out with his barely opened eyelids. Jason takes that as a cue, to wrap him under a blanket. “According to Homer, the underworld is located beyond the earth-encircling river of Ocean, at the far western end of the world. But there are some places one can use as portals…”

* * *

In the end, he ends up choosing the cavern near the ancient town of Tenarus. It’s situated at the tip of the middle promontory of Peloponnese, located at the end of the Mani Peninsula, from the longest coastline in Europe and the southernmost country in Europe

_Greece._

It’s a country known for the thousands of islands dotting the blue Aegean Sea to the east. This country in specific is filled with memories of him, since it was one of the first places Bruce took him to, for vacations. Once Jason accidentally made the mistake of admitting his love for mythology, before the crowbar to his head took all his endless knowledge away.

It takes him a while to crack where exactly is the cavern. While the whole place is surrounded by temples built by the ancient spartan, none of them give him a hint. It makes sense, the location is supposed to be guarded against common outsiders.

But to Jason, there’s no case that can’t be solved. Rule number 13, of the _hundreds_ of rules Bruce, often said on patrol. Yet now the ones he despited over decades, are now the ones he misses the most. And it’s strange, in a way, not hearing them anymore.

_Well...there had been a lot of things he had to get used to once the coffin was lowered to the ground, but he doesn’t think often about that._

It’s on the fourth day, that he finally finds something that sparks up his curiosity. Words engraved into one of the many caverns he visited.

A map, so to speak, written in ancient Greek.

* * *

The first trek of this unprompted journey isn't that difficult for Jason. It isn’t that hard to enter and start walking from there. It's well...almost as if he was trekking, in a way. With the exception that instead of going up he's going down.

And potentially _down to his death._

But that's a thought he will rather avoid thinking. With each step he takes, it gets darker and gloomier. Soon he needs to use his skills in lighting up a torch in order to not trip because his helmet soon isn’t enough. Or accidentally stab himself with the endless spiky rocks that roam this cavern.

Who knew rocks could hurt this much?

Jason honestly _didn’t._

It doesn't stop him from advancing, even if his progress is quite slow at first. He has already made up his mind in that aspect. Long gone is the indecision and the doubt plaguing him because now Jason has a mission incrusted inside his head.

An objective that could very well impact the rest of the family. An action that could once and for all eliminate the guilt plaguing his mind, ever since Bruce died.

The only thing he regrets is not gathering enough courage sooner. Because now? Now Jason is fighting and running against the machination of time. Like the ceaseless ticking of the countdown clock, reminding him of _that_.

Now, he's alone in a place that is unknown.

A place that is full of dead bodies and bones.

It doesn't stop him, of course. But he can sort of admit (as he stumbles and trips with bones, rocks, and stalagmite) that this will be either the best decision he has made so far or perhaps the one that will lead him to his grave.

It’s when he’s about to start losing faith, that he catches a glimpse of something and he remembers Tim’s advice ringing into his ear. He stills, before slowly turning around.

And not too far and hidden under all the stalagmite is a hole leading somewhere.

He cracks a smile.

_Bingo._

* * *

It's only after the second day that exhaustion soon begins to take its course. Probably because Jason has yet to find some water here.

And as he gets deeper into this never-ending maze, slowly but surely he begins to lose the sense of time. Thirst begins to spread after the last water bottle gets emptied with ease.

He keeps walking, even if his feet slowly start killing him. And as he keeps discovering new paths, he can't help but think how the others will react.

A small spark of guilt begins to infest him when he thinks about the rest. More precisely, how he didn't leave a goodbye or a note behind.

Selina is definitely going to be mad, after this. He can already imagine how much Damian will hiss at him. So he focuses on something else.

This place, to begin with.

It's very different like Gotham. Well, nothing like Gotham. Despite all the beliefs and the fact that Gotham is a hellhole and this place is actual hell, they both are very different. It reminds him of those planets Kori spoke about. It's dark, wet, and filled with stalagmite. There are ponds, but Jason is not willing to risk taking a sip in one of the pits.

Trust him, he has already reached his quota with the Lazarus.

With each staircase (who knew that existed there, uh?) that he takes, not only it gets darker but also colder. And judging by the screams echoing and reverberating he can hear, he’s getting closer to the _underworld_.

* * *

_Uh_ , he thinks as he slowly inspects the perimeter. Who knew the underworld could be so boring? He kicks another rock, who quickly slips into the darkness and the unknown. Someone definitely needs to fire the interior decorator, for sure.

Too many _rocks_.

Then out he hears steps coming into his way. It makes the hair from the back of his neck rise. But before he can take out the gun from his holster, he finds himself looking into the lifeless eyes of a person, who grabs his hands.

_Shit_

"And what is a mortal doing here, uh?" A voice asks, full of interest. He doesn’t get to blink as another person stands in front of him, looking at him with interest. With the exception that they don’t look like people, at all. Their skin is paler than what a human is.

Sicky pale.

Almost translucent.

He takes a step back in shock when he realizes that they don’t have irises, at all. He almost drops his gun, in the process due to the shock.

Because all those characteristics match the descriptions Tim droned in his head, once he asked what type of creatures roam in the underworld. _Spirits roam there_ , Drake had said as he accepted the third cup of coffee as payment, _while there isn’t much literature left, it’s said that the spirits there are a representation of-_

 _Spirits then_.

A chill creeps up to his spine.

“Not one hundred percent a mortal Penthos,” The woman says, clearly amused by all of this. Except that it’s there where he notices that those people are speaking without moving their mouths. _What?_ He takes a step back but the so-called Penthos squints at him. “This one is different.”

“Is this the one Melinoë talks so much? The one who is bles-”

“The one Thanatos-” Jason doesn’t know what the ever-living fuck is happening here. He blinks when the three people start bickering and arguing on who takes his soul to Hades. And when Penthos is about to deck Curae in the face, Jason takes that as a cue to leave.

This is perhaps the first time he is grateful that Bruce forced him to have so much cardio as a kid.

* * *

It takes him a while to know that in his quest to flee whatever spirits that wanted his soul, he lost his way. Soon enough he finds himself looking at a vastly different place than the previous one. This one is filled with eternal sunlight and meadows.

He keeps walking, even if his tired feet start protesting. But he’s too enraptured on the landscape. The meadows are a glorious expanse of thick and lush grass, rustling gently in the breeze. The sky is a deep blue and an occasional cloud would bounce across the sky.

It is peaceful.

 _What’s the catch?_ He can’t help but think as he inspects the perimeter. This is so unlike all the other places he has seen so far.

Thirty minutes later, he stumbles upon a person. His brain stutters, making him lose his balance. Just as he’s about to fall, a pair of arms catch him. He blinks, praying that this isn’t a hallucination. Or that this isn’t his brain playing games again.

As soon as their eyes meet, even the thoughts leave him. It’s...it’s...

“Jason,” Catherine whispers, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “You finally came.”

“Mom?” He whispers and closes his eyes, even if his voice breaks. Wishing with every inch of his heart that this is real.

Her face forms a small, sad smile.

“Why are you here my boy?” She asks. “Tell me, dear, what has made you come all the way here?

He closes his eyes, emotions overwhelming him.

* * *

Even if it has been almost eighteen years since he last saw Catherine Todd, she still looks lovely as ever. She looks well...almost happy so to speak. There’s this shine in her eyes that hadn’t been there and her skin is practically glowing.

He had forgotten about her smile. Her melodic voice. The way her eyes would light up when he makes a joke. How the corners of her _eyes_ would _wrinkle_ as a _smile_ would appear on her face. And her laugh. He had forgotten about that too.

Her arms are even free of those horrible track marks, and there’s not a scar on her body too. It’s surreal, being close to her, again.

He starts pinching himself, thinking that in any giving minute she will disappear.

Especially because she looks happy to be here, _with him._

There are a million things Jason wants to say to her. _How are you?_ along with _why did you leave me?_ It burns, the image of her mother walking beside him _burns_. Because this? This has been what Jason had been chasing all along when he was young.

“My little jay, look at you,” She says, caressing his cheek. Jason blushes, but can’t shy away from the hug. He can even smell the baby perfume Catherine loved to wear. The one he forgot the brand. “You look so grown up.”

“Mum,” He says, hugging her with force. His eyes are glimmering with watery tears. There are so many memories which she left behind. Even if she left way too early. He wants to hug her and never let go. “M-mum.”

To remember her smile. Her voice. To listen to all of those stories she used to tell her while he was just a young boy.

“M-mum,” He chokes out before the sadness, pain, and guilt make him bawl his eyes out. “ _Mum.”_

Her eyes soften.

“I’m so sorry sweetie,” She whispered, her eyes shimmering with tears too. “I’m so _so_ sorry.”

* * *

_Keep walking north and soon enough you’ll be getting near the Ferris._ She had said while hugging him for the last time. _Do not let yourself be caught by demon’s songs or soul’s pleads, or else you’ll be trapped here forever._

There are thousands of sounds reverberating throughout this place. Sounds of pleads and help, shouts and whispers. Voices of those who will never learn to live again. Promising whatever thing those souls can think of, in exchange for help.

But he knows that if he does, he won't ever get to save Bruce. He blinks, digging harder his nails into his palms, hoping that the pain will manage to distract him from the offers.

Offers of past memories and broken dreams. Demons are well versed in that aspect, but he's no fool. Because he knows that as soon as they pick up his interest, he'll be trapped here forever.

A thing he wants to avoid at all costs. He momentarily stills and thinks where he should go next, trepidation and fear clawing at the back of his neck.

Knowing that if he commits a mistake, he won't ever get to tell. Sweats begin to form, as he frantically thinks where. _East? South? North? West?_

He has no idea where Bruce could lay. But if there's something Jason has always done is faking he’s doing well.

So he keeps walking, even if with every step he takes, it feels as if he could melt. He curses under his breath. Because while he knew all the difficulties he could potentially face while doing this, he had not expected that much heat.

It makes him momentarily gag when he’s about to turn left.

Because it reminds him of the Pit's humidity and disgusting heat. He exhales while covering his mouth with a cloth, since he long had to leave his helmet behind.

And in between the multiple echoes and voices, he hears _it._ The _one_ phrase that has been haunting ever since _he_ sacrificed himself.

_Please don't cry._

"Bruce," he croaks, while pushing away the rest of the Demons who keep offering their services. He walks faster, not caring if a multitude of both Demon and the Deads start trailing behind him.

Following him, with one goal in mind and much other stuff that Jason tries to not think about.

_It's okay._

He shuts his eyes harder because after so many months hearing _his voice_ makes his head _hurt._

_I'm proud of you Jason._

Jason keeps pushing forward, despite how much it even burns to breathe, because he _needs_ to do it. He _needs to finish this._ He can't fail. Tim and Damian, along with Cass and the others are waiting for him on the other side.

_Dick and Alfred._

_Stephanie._

_Barbara and even Selina._

He chokes down the sob.

Selina, who in any given second could go into labor.

 _"Helena?"_ _Bruce asked after everyone in the family gave options. His cheek burned, and it was the hand gently clasping his shoulders what managed to not make him duck his head_.

_It’s Bruce, looking at him with those warm eyes and a gentle smile._

_"I love it, Jay."_

A miracle they said, once Selina was rushed to the hospital. The shock she went through after the shooting could have easily killed the baby but it didn't.

_"She's stubborn, just like his father" Selina had whispered, while the hospital gown made her look extra pale. And IV was sticking out of her arm. "It's okay Jason, it's okay."_

It was never okay.

He even painted the nursery, in his quest to make the guilt lessen.

_It didn't._

And while chasing Bruce's soul is perhaps the dumbest thing Jason has ever done to date, he doesn't regret it. Because this week Selina started having contractions, meaning that Helena could pop out in any given second.

And Jason wants her sister Helena to grow up with her dad.

He only hopes Bruce's precious people will hang on until he comes back. All the people Bruce ordered him to take care of, in his dying breath.

He doesn't remember much about that night, only his trembling hands clutching hard the fabric, trying to make the bleeding stopped. Praying to whatever god out there to help him.

_They didn't_

He _snarls_ , pushing his body to the limit. Tired limbs start running, breath shortening and blurry vision. But all of that doesn't matter to Jason anymore. Because he _promised_ Bruce, minutes before the ambulance arrived, that he would take care of his family.

Minutes before _he_ died, after he fell victim to the gunshot, trying to protect them. The same gunshot that is the same reason why he stopped using guns.

A _trauma_ , Leslie said with sympathy, after Jason finally admitted the reason behind his hand tremor. There was guilt, so much guilt choking him that his hands paid the price.

_It's going to be okay._

_Don't cry._

He sometimes thinks what Bruce would think of him, now. If he would be proud of what he's currently doing. _Probably not,_ his mind tells him, as he turns and runs and does everything in his power to get nearer the place his mom told him about.

Because deep down Jason is still a selfish man. Underneath all that bravado and helmets, suits and weapons he's still a man that is willing to take whatever opportunity to bring back his adoptive father.

"I'm coming for you Bruce," He whispers, his voice echoing in the endless darkness. His legs are burning and there's this cough choking him.

But he can't stop.

He _won't_ stop, not unless he finds the way to bring back Bruce _alive._ So they can be a family once _more._

His hands curled up into a fist, and he gathers whatever determination he has left to look at the endless cave. He raises his head up, knowing that maybe he won’t get out of here alive. But he already failed him once.

He’s not going to do it again.

_"I'm coming for you."_

* * *

Upon death, it is no other than Hermes, the emissary and messenger of the gods, that guides whatever soul that passed away near the entrance of the underworld. It is said that Hermes is the one capable of moving freely between worlds.

How exactly does that work? Jason has absolutely no idea. But his mom’s words of advice are still ringing into his ear. _Go pass north until you see a river that circles the underworld seven times._ He keeps the advice close to his heart.

Days and nights go by. It doesn’t stop Jason, even if his body is now beginning to fail. After all, mortal bodies are not meant to live here. And judging by the pain in his head and joints, his time is running out.

His mother was very clear on that aspect. He looks back at the two coins she gave him. They’re bronze and with the letters “opportunity” engraved there. He hums saving back those coins into his pockets and thinks... _why_ his mother….

 _“Keep on walking and don’t look back, Jay,_ ” She said after hugging him. She was shaking after she left him at the end of meadow fields. _“Don’t lose hope, and one day I will explain. Please, time is running out.”_

It’s on the fourth, that he sees what his mother had been talking about.

* * *

Charon is the son of Erebus, the ferryman of Hades. According to the popular tales, he’s the one who carries the poor souls who recently passed away across the rivers of Styx and Acheron, which are the ones that divide the world of the living from the world of the dead.

But the ride comes with a price. It isn’t free. You have to pay Charon with a token, unless you want to roam the shores of the underworld for one hundred years.

And while he did expect to deal with him, nothing prepared to actually _face_ him. He looks...very different than what he had expected.

He looked...almost human. Except for the part that he looks like a rough, unkempt seaman who had an unclean beard and hollow eyes, holding his ferryman's pole with his right hand.

"I haven't seen your kind in a while, _alive,"_ Charon says once he finally stands near him. Jason doesn’t know if he’s dangerous or not, but that’s a risk he is not willing to take. “Tell me, little human, what are you doing here?”

He refuses to shudder.

Instead, he narrows his eyes and spits.

"I want to pass."

There's a brief laugh.

"You're a very bold little human,' Charon says with a smirk, before narrowing his eyes. "Now what can you give me in exchange?

* * *

“Don’t touch the water,” Charon warns him, just as he’s about to touch it with the tip of his fingers. He immediately retracts them. Unlike the other rivers he has seen, this one is perhaps the murkiest out of them all.

He can’t even see his reflection on it.

“Why?” He can’t help but ask. It doesn’t take long to find out. He has to refrain from shooting the body that appears floating in the river, spooking the shit out of him. Charon barks a laugh, before shaking his head and muttering something like _“mortals_ ”.

He blinks, slowly placing his dear guns back into his holster. He turns his head around and says as eloquent as he can.

“Is that shit common here?”

Charon grins, showing his crumbly teeth and putrid smell. “More often than you would like to imagine, mortal.”

He doesn’t add anything else. Jason takes another glance at the river. The Styx river, to be more precise. _Its murky depths may turn you into an unbeatable god, but a more likely fate will be death_ his mother had warned him, with somber eyes. _Do not any under circumstances drink it, you hear me? You already had enou-_

He still doesn’t know what that could potentially mean. _Had what?_ He doesn’t remember ever being in touch with the Styx river, before.

“And where exactly are you going human?” Charon’s voice brings him back to reality. He chews up lips, a bad habit Bruce couldn’t eradicate, that is only done whenever he’s nervous.

“I come to see Hades”

A chuckle.

“Do you want a piece of advice? For you to get to Hades… you have to take the long way down.” There’s a brief pause before he adds. “And don’t anger Cerberus.”

He blinks.

“Who the fuck is Cerberus?”

* * *

So, it turns out that Cerberus is the multi-headed dog that guards the gates of the Underworld to prevent the dead from leaving. Unlike hellhounds, who are also assigned to guard the entrances to the world of the dead, Cerberus is no ordinary mutt.

He is no other thing than then offspring of the monsters Echidna and Typhon. It’s got three heads and a serpent for a tail. He does share some similarities with hellhounds, such as the mangled black fur and the glowing red eyes.

“Oh,” He says when he faces the seven feet hound of Hades. Tim had not been exaggerating on that aspect, because the beast?

Well, he can give him points for the effort in the monster department because that shit is _hideous_.

Not only it’s got a foul smell but it’s the three heads in the body of a dog that gives Jason the creeps. Yet the first that comes to his mind, once he catches sight of the monstrous creature guarding the place, is that Damian would love to take care of it.

And the second?

It turns out that Cerberus is very fond of treats

* * *

The place where Hades and his wife live are almost 7 miles away, from where Cerberus guards the gates of the underworld. He’s not surprised at all when he catches sight of a magnificent palace. It almost reminds him of the manor.

Except that this one is one hundred feet underground. It has four sides around a central quadrangle and over fifty rooms. The floors are marble and the stair rails are ornate mahogany, carved and polished so much that it hurts to look at.

And as Cerberus guides him through the hallways, there are multiple family portraits painted in oils and hung in gold frames. He looks at them, knowing that most of them are part of Persephone’s family, the queen of the underworld.

He looks at the pictures with interest. Not much is known about her, apart from how Hades seduced her, by abducting her.

Turns out that Persephone had _lots_ of siblings.

“Apollo, Artemis, Athena…” He murmurs. Apollo reminds him of Dick. They both liked sports. He ponders how they all are; if Damian is taking vitamin C. If Dick is taking care of himself or if Selina is doing her rest.

Or Tim is taking his meds regularly. _And if he ever returns from this alive, he will start a trend of calling Tim “Timbo Athena”._

The thought flashes into his mind, and he can feel how his throat constricts.

How many days have passed since he came here?

“A month,” A female voice says, making him almost shout in the process. It’s a woman, with dark brown curls, and the nicest features you can possibly imagine. She had the face of someone whom the gods had gifted with beauty.

She smiles sheepishly, one hand rubbing the back of her head. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” He denies, but it’s totally obvious by the way the woman laughs.

Even her smile is gorgeous.

He turns red.

“I’m sorry,” Her voice is silky smooth. She bats her long eyelashes as she stands beside him, and inspects the paintings Jason had been appreciating seconds ago.

She chuckles.

“You’re the first one that hasn’t been bored to death by these paintings,” She jokes, facing him. “Normally people go to the trophy exhibition. Second floor, east wing.”

“Well despite all appearances, I like art better than weapons,” He admits, wishing that he hadn’t smoked his last pack of cigarettes on the ferry so fast. “Plus these paintings remind me of my family.”

She raises a brow.

“Family?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a numerous family too,” He starts thinking about his family who are on the other side of the world. It doesn’t take long for the guilt to come. He doesn’t even want to think about how they probably took his disappearance. “Not as numerous as Persephone’s, but still.”

“Do you miss them?”

“I do,” He admits, concentrating on one of the paintings where Apollo is laughing. “All the time.”

“Is that the reason why a mortal is here, seeking Hades?” The woman asks, losing all jovial aside, and replacing it for a serious expression. “You lost someone dear and close to your heart?”

“I did,” He replies back. “But if I’ve got hope, ma’am.”

That makes her narrow her eyes, suddenly interested.

“If Persephone’s mother, Demeter, managed to shake the whole world down in order to get back her daughter,” He says as his hands curled up into a fist. He _won’t_ fail. “I can do so too.”

He cracks up a grin.

“And for my family, I’m willing to blow this whole place up, if necessary.”

The woman’s mouth curls up into a lopsided grin.

* * *

“This is where I’ll leave you, Jason,” The woman says while pointing at the last door. “It was a pleasure talking to you.”

The hair stands up on the back of his neck.

He blinks, realization dawning upon his face.

“Wait,” He says. “I never gave you my name-”

And it’s only when he turns around that he notices...there’s no one in the hallway

 _Uh_.

* * *

Hades is the god of the dead and the king of the underworld. He is the firstborn son of the Titans Cronus and Rhea. Just like Jason, Hades has many brothers and sisters. For example; Hestia, Demeter, and Hera, as well as a younger brother, Poseidon.

All of whom had been swallowed whole by their father Cronus as soon as they were born.

Out of all the gods out there, Hades is not someone to mess around. Cold and stern, and the embodiment of the inexorable finality of death, Hades holds all of his subjects equally accountable to his laws.

According to Jason’s sources, Hades also takes pride in collecting “subjects” for his kingdom and is disinclined to let anyone leave. Or how he can also become enraged if anyone tries to leave or tries to steal the souls from his realm.

_Hang on there Bruce, I’m coming for you._

* * *

There is anticipation and trepidation, running thin into his vein. Whole days wasted with the goal to come up there. But all the _anticipation_ can’t exactly prepare him to face once and for all, the god that could very well grant him his wish.

Or make him fall to his knees, _dead._

As soon as he takes a step forward, the door closes behind him with a loud thud. And before he can even do something about it, he feels _something_ pushing him away from the door. Magic, he realizes, when the door disappears from plain sight.

Then he feels it.

Someone, watching him with interests. He raises his head up while wiping the sweat off his forehead with his hands.

It’s none other than Hades.

“Mister Todd,” Hades says and his voice reverberates throughout the whole room, which is decorated just as dramatic as the rest of the house.

Jason lets his eyes wander to Hades, who’s sitting on a throne made of ebony. The chair is created with several jewels and decorative metals forming an elegant coat of arms. There is a scepter on his left hand, also decorated with all the insignias worthy of a king.

Everything screams power, that he doesn’t have. But it’s the appearance of Hades, what manages to make him hold his breath. Because, well...Hades looks... _terrifying_. It’s not the robe, not the scepter, not even the beard that scares him.

It’s the eyes, he realizes, with dread, that spooks him the most. The cold piercing grey eyes that reflect natural wisdom through millions of years. The same eyes that give Jason the impression they are analyzing his every move.

“I’ve been waiting for you, child,” Hades adds with a chuckle, as if this is some sort of wicked amusement show for him. It must be. Hades is a god after all. “Words travel fast around here. Styx has been screaming in joy about your return.”

 _Styx?_ His mind screams at him. The river? What does Styx have to do with him? His breath hitches as he grips his gun holster harder. All while his mind comes up with various explanations and different possibilities. Could be this some sort of trap? If so why? Why-

“I can hear your thoughts from here, you’re loud, even for a human” Hades interjects with a sigh, making the room ten times colder. He could tell Hades is not a man of patience.”Normally I would strike you right here from the sheer boldness from trespassing my kingdom, but you have been chosen by Styx, so I can’t-

_Chose._

_You._

_Chose._

_Chose you_

“What?” He whispers, eyes widening with uncertainty and terror. He wants to take a step back, to scream what all this shit is about, but there’s something...that is making him freeze. _Hades._ So instead he opts for saying. “What are you talking about?”

Hades blinks before narrowing his eyes and hitting his scepter against the cold marbled floors, who quickly quiver under his command.

“You are well known here for being the one that enamored Styx with your heart. It was her who brought you back to life,” He explains, partially annoyed. So it is true then. The text hadn’t lied. Hades is not a patient man. “Or did you think that the Lazarus Pit was ordinary water, boy?”

“You’ve probably mistaken me with another-” He starts but is quickly interrupted by Hades, who hits the scepter twice on the ground.

It shuts him up, _instantly_.

“The judges don’t lie, boy,” Hades sneers. “But because you are special and favored by a deity, I will grant an exception. You came here for a reason, right?”

“Yes,” Jason replies. “My father. I came here for my father, sir. His name is Bruce Wayne and for him, I have a lot of things-”

“I do not want any of those offerings,” Hades says, interrupting him _again_. He inspects him with distaste, before saying. “But I will settle over something else. An agreement, of some sorts. Your Father at the cost of you-”

With the wave of a hand and another snap of his fingers, someone else appears. A person, that is the exact reason why he came all the way to here.

 _Bruce_.

“Jason,” Bruce starts, fighting against the three long chains that enslave him against a wall. His voice. Oh, how he missed Bruce’s voice. He wants to run up to him and start asking for forgiveness. To say that he is sorry he wasn’t fast enough, strong enough-

_I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I couldn’t help you-_

“Do not listen to him, Jay“ Bruces begs. He looks desperate. “Look at me, it’s alright. Don’t do it, don’t-”

“Your soul,” Hades dictates with a final tone, crossing his arms. ”A life for a life. It is a fair deal, human. You have five minutes starting from... _now_ ”

But the thing is that Jason...has already made up his mind.

“Jason, please.” He pleaded, tugging against the chains, even if he hurt himself in the process. “ _Don’t_ do this.”

“It’s okay old man,” He whispers, as he slowly walks up to Hades. He goes up to Bruce and places a light kiss on his forehead as an apology. “Please don’t hate me for doing this. Tell my brothers I love them, and that I’m sorry.”

There’s a slight pause, as he wipes the tears with his sleeve.

“I’m really _fucking_ sorry.”

And as he walks towards Hades, his mind starts replaying memories he ever had with Bruce and his family. Cherished memories that make the tears start flowing freely again. But to Jason, it is alright. He knew from the moment he had stepped here, there would be a price.

And this is a price he is willing to pay, in exchange for his family’s happiness. For Dick, Tim, Cass, Damian, Selena, and potentially baby Helena. And with one last breath, he kneels and says the words.

“Hades, I have already made up my mind-”

Except that just as Hades is about to place his scepter on top of Jasons’s a woman storm into the room.

“My dear Hades,” She says in a sickly sweet way, directly approaching the King of the underworld. It’s the same woman from before, he realizes, except that this time she’s wearing different kinds of clothes. “And when were you gonna tell me we had guests?”

Hades _gulps_.

 _Persephone_.

“My de-dear P-Persephone,” He starts in such a un-Hades voice that makes Jason question if this is even the same guy he was willing to offer his soul, seconds ago. What. The. Fuck. ”I was just….I was just...I’m-”

Then Hades starts blabbering as if his life depended on it.

“Please don’t tell me you were thinking about soul exchange with Styx’s blessed one,” She continues while secretly giving Jason a wink. Then she turns to Hades, tapping her toes.“ Uh, Hades? You know she’s my friend.”

* * *

“What?”

“What you just heard.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jason starts blabbering. He’s so shocked he can’t even form words correctly. Out of all the things he had expected from _saving this asshole_ , he comes up with this? “You cannot be serious about this, right?”

"I literally just save you."

“Jason Peter Todd as of today’s date” Bruce spits out, dragging him by the elbow out of this dimension and out of Charon’s boat. “And as soon as we get out of this dimension-”

Charon waves goodbye while murmuring something about _“mortal”._

Cerberus wags his tail and barks.

“You’re _grounded_ ,” Bruce continues with all the fury that comes with hearing how his son was willing to sacrifice himself at the exchange of his life. All while ignoring the way Jason gawks at him. “As soon as we’re back in Gotham, you will be grounded.”

Then he adds.

“For a _month_.”

Jason opens his mouth but shuts it as soon as Bruce raises a finger and growls “ _not a single word”_. Then, to Jason’s demise, he continues ranting.

“Not only was that massively irresponsible," He starts. "But you also ignored my orders. You disobeyed Dick’s (who surely must be having a life crisis at this point) orders, but you also faced foes with unprotected wear and let’s not even talk about the way you-

* * *

_And that’s how ladies and gentlemen, Jason saved his dad._

_And also got grounded for maybe a lifetime._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](https://niullum.tumblr.com/)! if you liked this pls let me know in the comments! Thanks for reading, please stay safe and I hope you have a good day! ❤️


End file.
